


of my true love's hair

by cunninglingus



Series: Black is the Color [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dark!Loki, Dark!Thor, Dubious Consent, Feelings, Gratuitous Smut, Intersex Loki, Intersexuality, JUST LET THOR LOVE YOU, Loki is a twisty shit, M/M, Oral Sex, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunninglingus/pseuds/cunninglingus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor is amazing at licking pussy and nobody is going to convince me otherwise.</p><p>And poor Loki, he just can't win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dangereuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangereuse/gifts).



> I wrote this as a follow up to Black is the Color but it can stand alone. All you need to know is that Loki was imprisoned post-Avengers, he can't cast spells, and that Thor might have raped him - sorta.
> 
> I also wrote this because it is my sincere belief that Thor - and by extension Chris Hemsworth - is amazing at licking pussy. DON'T YOU DARE TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME

It’s well past midnight when Loki hears his door click open then thud closed. Loki doesn’t have to look to know it’s Thor, not simply because Thor is one of the few who holds a key to his cell, but also because only he would try so hard - and fail so miserably - at being stealthy.

 

Honestly.  The Hulk is more subtle.

 

“Loki?” Thor whispers urgently as he gives Loki’s shoulder a shake.

 

Loki does not open his eyes, nor does he bother to coddle Thor's great ego by feigning sleep.

 

“Finally come to rescue me?” he says cheerfully. “It’s about time. I was beginning to think -”

 

“Shhhhhh!” Thor hisses and presses a hand over his mouth. “Quiet. Get dressed. Come with me.”

 

With a sigh, Loki pulls himself out of bed swipes his hair back. Thor is wearing his dark grey cape - the one he wears when he’s about to do something naughty and he wishes to remain inconspicuous. Even in this, he is predictably transparent.  

 

Loki begins to undo his sleep-shirt buttons and looks up to catch Thor eyeing him warily.

 

“Shall I make a show of it?”

 

Thor grunts and shifts his weight in his clunky boots. No wonder he can’t sneak up on anyone.

 

“Don’t bother changing, just hurry and put your cloak on. We don’t have much time.”

 

“Oohh, what _are_ we up to tonight?” Loki smirks and pulls his cloak over his shoulders  - not that he minds the wintry chill. “So surreptitious. You’re getting my hopes up, brother.”

 

Thor grabs him by the upper arm and points a finger in his face, in a manner that indicates he’s about to give Loki a stern warning. Thor’s grip is just as Loki remembers it - unforgiving, unadulterated. Loki wonders what Thor would do if he took that finger in his mouth and sucked on it.

 

“If you run, I will follow. And I will catch you. And you will beg to be locked back in your tower cell, for what I will do to you.”

 

Loki smiles in the sweetly sardonic way he knows rankles his brother like nothing else. “Cross my heart.”

 

Thor releases him with a curt nod.

 

“Come, and keep silent.”

 

Whatever it is, Loki is grateful to merely be let outside his cell, and he obediently follows Thor down the spiral stairwell, down a few service hallways and then up another stairwell. Thor makes sure to keep to the shadows, and creeps as silently as he is able. To Loki's surprise, they manage to remain undiscovered. The palace guards must be humoring Thor in this, surely; he's so unabashedly obvious it's almost pathetic. Intermittently, Thor checks behind him to make sure Loki has not run off. b As if Loki had somewhere to go, gelded of magic -  he’d be apprehended again by morning. And, Thor’s idea or no, Loki would bear the brunt of Odin’s displeasure.

 

It soon becomes clear that Thor means to take him up to the Western Tower - the highest tower of Asgard’s fortress - but for what purpose, Loki cannot ascertain. Loki is disturbed to find he's having a hard time keeping up with his brother, whose energy is, as ever, limitless. His legs burn from disuse, and Loki makes a mental note to do some exercises in his cell lest he wither away completely. Nonetheless, Loki’s pride would never allow him to ask Thor to slow down.

 

At last, Thor opens the door to the rooftop balcony and Loki immediately sees why he was so keen to bring him up here:

 

The Aurora.

 

Bright, green, and flickering beneath a veil of stars, the light weaves in and out like a band of Loki’s own magic painted across the sky. The night is crisp and clear with nothing to obstruct the view, and from their perch on the highest tower, Loki can see in all directions. He hasn’t been outside in…...months. Maybe more than a year - it is easy to lose track of time when each indistinguishable, monotonous day blurs into another. Loki cranes his neck and relishes that for once he isn’t greeted with the sight of a vaulted stone ceiling. He feels like he can finally _breathe_ , at last.

 

He doesn’t know how long he drinks it in, but eventually he hears Thor shifting behind him - unsure of whether or not to be the one to break the silence, perhaps. They haven’t spoken to each other since _that night_ , but for the time being, Loki is quite content to let him stew in his discomfort. It may have been a risk for Thor to bring him up here, but Loki is feeling too petty to thank him.

 

“I thought you wouldn’t want to miss this,” Thor says at length. “It’s rare for the skies to be as clear as they are, and on a night with a new moon, no less. Look, look, above the horizon.”

 

Loki turns. Above the eastern horizon, streaks of reddish light tinge the green around the edges. Most unusual for the Northern Lights, Loki hasn’t seen that in….perhaps ten or twenty years.  Loki is almost inclined to find this romantic - the intermingling of his and Thor’s colors in the heavens themselves - but quickly swallows down that preposterous drivel and curses himself for even thinking it in the first place. The red light burns bright and consumes the green.

_How apropos._

 

Thor is obviously not above that kind of trite sentimentality, however, because then he says, “Do you think it’s a good omen?”

 

As if Thor knew anything about the subtleties of divination. Thor could be convinced that an untied bootlace was an good sign. Not that Thor ever paid attention to omens anyway; Thor does what he wants regardless of what the signs say, ever certain that fate will bend to meet his whims. He has never known vulnerability, never has had to calculate his strikes. Never had to wait in the shadows, never cultivated the virtue of patience. His confidence - nay, _arroganc_ e - has always carried him through whatever rash endeavor he embarks upon, and he always comes out rosy on the other side. It’s simply not _fair._

Bah. Only a fool would come up with such a simplistic interpretation of this kind of phenomena and think himself the greatest of diviners.

 

Loki quirks an eyebrow. ”A good omen….?”

 

Thor shuffles his feet. “The red …. and the green. That’s not usually how - That’s not a common occurrence, I thought it might hold some meaning. And you were always better at reading omens, so -” his voice trails off, and he seems almost embarrassed.  As he ought.

 

“Ahhhhhhh, _I see_ ,” Loki says, as if he _just_ figured out where Thor was going with this.  “I am the green and you are the red, is that it?”

 

“Well, I didn’t think you’d put it so plainly,” Thor mutters.

 

“And the breeze our lady mother?”

 

“I admit I am unschooled in omen-reading  but you don’t have to mock me.”

 

“Well, hold on, let me see,” Loki says seriously and turns his gaze back up to the sky, “Hmmmm. The unlikely union of red and green. Over a new moon - veiled in darkness. Or secrecy. Eastwards - new beginnings? Or hope, perhaps? Ah! You’re in luck, brother!”

 

Thor’s head perks up, “What?”

 

Loki smiles brightly, “If you’re looking to bed me again, the signs indicate that tonight would be most opportune.”

 

Thor’s face falls. “Never mind. It was stupid of me to bring you here.”

 

Loki laughs. Of course he’d be _sensitive_ about that.  “It’s just a jest, brother, don’t be so touchy.”

 

Loki looks back up at the skies, the vastness of the heavens soothing him and replenishing his wasting spirit. He imagines himself transforming into a raven and flying far, far away from here, away from Thor, away from Asgard, where no one can see him -

 

But no.

 

Thor will always find him.

 

“It is good to be outside,” Loki concedes, to appease Thor’s growing sulk. “The cell can be…..suffocating. I can see but a small patch of sky from the window. Trust the Allfather to deny me even that mercy. He might as well have buried me deep in the dungeon.”

 

The light fades over the east, and the red flickers stronger over the northern horizon. North - independence, freedom, self-direction. The skies have a sense of humor, it seems.

 

“He wants nothing more than to forget me.” Loki continues dispassionately, watching the swirling celestial light. “He wants you to forget me, too.”

 

To Thor’s credit, he doesn’t deny it; they both know it to be true. After all, why else would Odin rush Thor into a marriage so precipitously if not to divert his attention away from his fallen brother?

 

“Without you, who will I have to make fun of me?” Thor says with a soft, almost sad, smirk.

 

Loki cannot abide Thor's puppy face, so he rolls his eyes with a caustic smirk of his own.

 

“Seeing as you are incapable of not doing stupid things, I am provided with a continuous supply of source material.”

 

Thor brightens a bit at the ribbing, and his eyes flash slighty with boyish mischief. “Well, I suppose that’s true. Would bringing you here qualify as stupid?  Father would have a fit if he knew. I’m actually rather surprised we didn’t get caught.” He shrugs and grins loopily, opening his arms over his considerable bulk. “I’m not really built for sneaking.”

 

“More like, you have all the subtlety of a irate frost troll.”  

 

“Hey! I got us up here, didn’t I?” He pouts. ”I cannot be that bad. Do you remember that time when we snuck into the ladies’ bathing chambers?”

 

“It’s hardly sneaking when I’m using an invisibility charm,” Loki says dryly.

 

“......because I wanted to see that redhead. What was her name. It started with and R. Rah…..Ruh…?  Ruh-something. Ah, I can’t recall. She was that governor's daughter, in from the countryside for the summer.” He strokes his beard, “She had those freckles……”

 

“I remember we missed her and got an eyeful of Lady’s Brunhild’s sagging tits and lumpy old arse instead.”

 

Thor makes a play of shuddering in revulsion. “I haven't been able to look her in the eye since.”

 

“I also remember that you slipped and knocked over that vase and blew our cover.”

 

“Oh yes,” Thor’s smile broadens. “Gave the old cow quite the start.”

 

“And,” Loki continues, “Let’s not forget whose quick wits and quicker casting got you out of that mess.”

 

Thor throws his hands up. “Alright! Alright! You made your point! I’m a lumbering brute, and you, Loki, are much smarter, much cleverer and much sneakier than me. There, are you happy?”

 

Loki falls silent.

 

Much _sneakier._

Oh yes.

 

 _Sneaky_ little Loki.

_Sneaky, treacherous, deceitful, two-faced Loki._

 

“I mean, stealthy,” Thor corrects. “I mean - “

 

“Never mind,” Loki snaps. “Forget about it.”

 

They watch as the Aurora fades, silent and tense. Loki approaches the ledge, peers down, and is overcome with a rush of vertigo. It’s a clear drop to the grounds below, but in the darkness it’s hard to gauge how high up they truly are. Behind him,Thor resumes shuffling his feet, which means he’s about to say something heartfelt and is planning the best way to phrase it. Loki rolls his eyes in anticipation.

 

“When did you stop being on my side?”

 

Loki shoots him a look. “Can you not.”

 

“No, I want to know,” Thor says, coming closer. “When did things change between us?”

 

“Perhaps things have always been as they are,” Loki says. “Your eyes just got wider.”

 

Loki turns around and seats himself on the crenelated edge and is met with a spike in adrenaline. There is nothing but the wind at his back and the blackness below.  It would be so easy, he thinks, to fall back and end it all right here, right now. He fell once before. This time would just be more……...final. The look on Thor’s face would almost be worth it.

 

Loki leans back slightly, and triumphs in the way Thor tenses, wide-eyed. Thor’s unabridged attention is heady and Loki likes it.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Loki says, casual as you like.

 

Thor twitches anxiously, like he wants nothing more than to pull Loki away, but thinks better of it.

 

“I…..I am sorry I did not come for you sooner. It is not for lack of desire that I have been kept from your side.”  He takes a deep breath. “I have been occupied.”

 

It’s a transparent excuse and they both know it.

 

“Occupied.” Loki clicks his tongue. “With _her.”_

Thor outreaches his hand, as if to beckon Loki to come down, but Loki does not move. No, he wants Thor to come to him. He spent enough of his life chasing after his brother.

 

“I have an obligation to Groa. You know this. I’m expected to be seen with her in public to lend legitimacy to our unborn child.”  He takes a step closer.  “I would have rather spent time with you; I hold no love for her that is not borne out of duty.”

 

Thor approaches cautiously, as one would a wild animal. Loki watches carefully, still teetering precariously on the ledge, and doesn’t move to take his proffered hand.

 

“Forgive me,” Thor goes on, searching for the right words to satisfy his brother. "I did not intend for you to feel like I’d...forgotten you, for you are never far from my thoughts.”

 

Loki closes his eyes when Thor finally envelops him in his arms. He is so firm, so solid, and the strength in his shoulders makes Loki quiver for a reason entirely unrelated to the lethal fall at his back.

 

“I will always come for you.”

 

The height is dizzying; Thor’s proximity more so. Loki leans backwards over the ledge, testing both Thor’s grip and the amount of trust he’s willing to extend to him. In response,Thor tenses and wraps his arms more firmly around his brother. Then, very carefully, Thor pulls him off the ledge. He doesn’t loosen his embrace even as he sets Loki down, and brings one hand up to cradle the back of Loki’s head, as though Loki were something very, very precious and not the twisted, manipulative, _sneaky_ wretch Loki knows he is.

 

Loki goes limp allows Thor to hold him. He smells like ozone and leather and even through his clothes Loki can feel the heat of him.There is solace to be found in Thor’s suffocating embrace and hates himself for needing it as badly as he does.

 

Thor squeezes him tighter, “I have to take you back.”

 

Loki keeps himself pliant, resigned. “I know.”

 

***

 

It should be annoying how Thor holds Loki’s hand as he leads him back up to his tower. Loki would usually spit at Thor to stop treating him like a child, perhaps smack him upside the head and call him a sentimental fool. But he finds he has no energy, and moreover, he’s not even sure he’d be able to return to his room without Thor there to guide him. That room - that _cell_  - is small, much too small to hold someone like Loki, and sometimes Loki has to remind himself that he _can_  breathe, he _can_  - even if it seems like there isn’t enough air - just one deep breath at a time -

 

If Thor ever did forget about him here…….

 

They stop on the threshold and Thor unbars the door, standing aside for Loki to enter. Oh, as if Loki were through just yet. Slowly, slowly, Loki leans forwards until his and Thor’s faces are almost touching. Thor is watching him warily, unmoving yet thrumming with energy as Loki places a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. Where once he and Thor stood almost head to head, Loki now has to raise up onto his toes to meet eye level, and he wonders idly if he truly is withering away.

 

“Thank you,” he says, “For letting me out tonight.”

 

Thor seems to relax somewhat. That such a brute can melt from such a simple gesture of affection...

 

“You’re welcome. I had hoped you would enjoy it." Thor clears his throat with a kind of finality as he ushers Loki inside with a gentle hand at his back. "Well, ah. I will come for you again soon, alright?”

 

He begins to close the door, but Loki stops him.

 

“Wait, Thor.”

 

Thor does, eyebrows raised.

 

“Stay with me.”

 

The words spring forth, seemingly of their own accord, and the desperation in his voice is alarmingly close to something authentic. Oh, well. Some things can’t be helped; might as well get on with it.

 

Thor is taken aback. “What?”

 

“Stay with me,” Loki repeats.

 

Thor exhales and looks away, like he knows this is a bad idea but is tempted anyway. Loki’s seen that look before. How many of their childhood misadventures began with a look exactly like that?

 

"Loki, I....."

 

Loki puts on his best wide-eyed, youthful face -  the one he uses to best pull at Thor's heartstrings.

 

“Just for awhile, until I fall asleep? Please, Thor.”

 

Then, Thor cracks, as Loki knew he would.

 

“Very well. Only for awhile. But then I _must_ go.”

 

“Fine,” Loki says, and enters his cell, swallowing down the mounting claustrophobia. He goes straight for his wardrobe, and while his back is turned to Thor, he pauses to collect himself, taking a few deep steady breaths.

 

_Get a hold of yourself, you fool._

 

Loki undoes his cloak and carefully tucks it away into his wardrobe drawer. He’s acutely aware that Thor is still watching him apprehensively from the entry, picking at a loose thread in his cape as his brows knit in indecision. He looks so unsure - like an oversized boy rather than the mighty God of Thunder - it’s almost comical.

 

Loki slows his movements to snakelike fluidity, sweeping his hair to one side and tracing the curve of his neck in a way that seems wholly innocent and natural and is anything but. Looking over his shoulder, he is unsurprised to find Thor gazing back at him with a mix of apprehension and desire. It is intoxicating to hold Thor captive like this, even if Loki could lose control of him at any moment. Although he is otherwise a pathetically predictable man, Thor has berserker in his blood, and when he is provoked there is no telling what he will do.

 

Can Loki help it that he enjoys a little chaos in his life?

 

“Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand there and gawk at me?”

 

“I...uh…” Thor seems to snap to, as if he’d been in a trance and hadn’t known he had been staring. He clears his throat. “Right.”

 

He sits at Loki’s table stiffly, and looks away as Loki undoes his hair to rebraid it. Well, that won’t do.

“You can make yourself more comfortable,” Loki suggests.

 

“I’m not staying long.” Thor says, voice parched. “Groa will notice I am gone…..”

 

“Oh, relax. I’m sure she’s used to having you gallivanting about in the middle of the night by now. Here, aren’t you hot in this?” Loki approaches Thor and undoes the clasp on his right shoulder and pulls off his cape. He’s tense, wound tight like a loaded trap. “See? Isn’t that better.”

 

“I shouldn’t be here,” Thor whispers hoarsely.

 

“What’s a friendly visit between two brothers, hmmm?”

 

Thor’s eyes narrow to slits. “You _know_ what I mean.”

 

“You came for me, didn't you? You must want to see me. Maybe I want you to be here, too. Maybe I want to…” Loki leans in hotly, “…..show you my gratitude.”

 

Thor’s face darkens abruptly, and he rises, ripping himself from Loki’s grasp. “You insist on seeing the worst in me? Stars above, Loki! I only wanted to share a few moments outside this damned room with you, perhaps afford you some respite from your imprisonment. I don’t need…..” His face twists sourly, “I don’t need _payment_.”

 

“Calm down, brother,” Loki says breezily. “Let us just call it a proper end to a otherwise _perfect_ night. It’s not as though you are taking advantage, and I know you desire me still - ”

 

Thor grits out, “I came because I wanted to see you. Because I _miss_ you! And yet you insist on…...on _toying_ with me, even after what happened last time.” He turns to the door. “This was a mistake. I am sorry, I must go.”

 

 

Shifting strategies, Loki draws forth a sneer. “Ah, of course. Because _you_  wanted to see _me_. _You, you you._  Isn’t that how it always goes. Never mind that I spend every moment locked away in this accursed room with only dormice and sparrows for company. Never mind that _you're_  the one with the prerogative to come and go as you please. Never mind that you live your life as usual, play the dutiful Odinson, dote on your broodmare,  all the while safe in the knowledge that I will be right where you left me, holding my breath until you deign to come back. Because I’m _always_  waiting on you, Thor. What about what _i_ want?”

 

“I said I was sorry!” Thor exclaims. “I don’t know what you want from me. I just -” He takes a deep breath and smooths back his frizzing hair. “I’ve made mistakes, yes, and it was wrong of me to avoid facing what I have done to you, but I’m here now, trying to set things right between us, and yet I am met with your attempts to _sabotage_ me.”

 

Loki cocks his head. “ ‘Set things right’? Oh, my dear, sweet brother, it is too late for that. You will never _set it right_ ; I’m not even asking you to. In fact, I rather _like_  you like this. I _like_  being reminded that the Golden Prince of Asgard has a few dark little secrets of his own, that I’m not the only member of this family who is black with rot inside.” Loki pauses for effect, then lowers his voice and swoops in for the kill: “A _true_ king would not be afraid to take what he wants, when he wants it, with neither hesitation nor regret.”

 

”Stop - stop talking like that!”

 

“Why?” Loki grins. “Because you’re tempted?”

 

“Because I shouldn’t. I _can't_.”

 

“It’s alright. I’d let you,” Loki says. “You know I’d let you. You can stick it _anywhere._ ”

 

Thor’s mouth drops, stunned speechless.

 

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this?” Thor demands, grabbing Loki by the shoulders and giving him a brutal shake “Loki, this isn’t you! You are truly mad...to even suggest….” He releases Loki with a sharp, vicious push, and Loki staggers backwards with the force of it. Loki’s foot catches on the edge of his rug and he stumbles, falling backwards to the ground. Thor towers over him like a thundercloud, rife with electric energy. “Damn it, you want to know why I can’t come back here? Do you? _Because I can’t control myself when I’m with you!”_

 

Loki holds his position on the floor. He stays very still, very quiet, eyes to the ground, hair over his face, as Thor’s booming voice echoes against the stone walls. He’s panting heavily, and from the angle of his boots it looks like he wants to leave, but he’s hesitating. _Good._

 

Just have to wait.

 

Just wait….

 

Eventually, Thor sighs and crouches down to Loki’s level. He takes Loki’s chin and tilts his face up.

 

“Why do you want me to stay?” he asks. “Truly?”

 

“I…….” Loki starts. He tries to think of the perfect way to play this, the perfect line in his otherwise perfect act. But then he’s met with Thor’s earnest, heartfelt, concerned blue eyes and all that really comes to mind is the truth: that he misses Thor, that he’s lonely for him. And It simply would not do to say any of _that_ aloud.

 

Loki falls silent and looks away, hoping Thor takes it to mean whatever satisfies him best.

 

Thor’s lips thin to a fine line.

 

“You can’t simply speak plain to me,”  he says, equal parts angry and disappointed. “After all that has transpired. You always play these _games_.”

 

He grabs Loki by the upper arm and hauls him up towards the bed. Loki goes, unresistant.

 

It’s happening.

 

_Finally._

 

“You aren’t going to fight?”

 

Loki shakes his head. “Why would I?”

 

“I could hurt you.” _Again_ , is the word left hanging heavy and unspoken between them. Thor is too narrow-sighted to see that no matter what he does, can’t help but hurt him. With his love, with his hate, it matters not.

 

Just so long as he’s not indifferent.

 

Loki shrugs. “I don’t care.”

 

“Fine. Fine then. Nor do I.” Thor says, and flings him down onto the bed. Loki lands on his back and Thor descends after him, pulling off Loki’s sleep pants. “You see what you make me do to you?” He deftly undoes Loki’s shirt buttons one at a time, so that when he’s pulled it open Loki is laying bare beneath him save for the sleeves of his shirt and the torque at his neck. Thor doesn’t bother taking off his own clothes and Loki resents him for it.  It makes him feel vulnerable and exposed, like a prey animal laid before a starving lion. But then, this isn’t about what he wants, so what does it matter.

 

A flashback of the last time they did this springs to Loki’s mind and he briefly panics at having Thor looming above his prone form, massive and indomitable. He inhales deeply to soothe his frayed nerves and tries to calm himself down. This _is_ what he wants. Whatever Thor does to him, it will be worth it in the end.  

 

Thor is just…..staring at him. What is he waiting for? Has his lust cooled? No, that can’t be it, he’s practically drooling, the beast. This is almost worse than the last time, because at least then he had _some_  inclination of what Thor was going to do to him, even if it did not go……. quite as Loki expected. Does he want Loki to initiate? Loki tries to think what he ought to do. Rise to give Thor a kiss?  Touch himself? Roll over?

 

All these options prove to be equally mortifying, so Loki freezes like a stupid blushing virgin and allows Thor to run his hands over his chest and stomach as he pleases. His touch is warm - so much warmer than his own cool skin. Warm and heavy.    

 

His breath hitches as Thor eases his legs open, exposing his shame, his dual sex, and he fights the urge to slam his thighs closed. It’s not as though Loki has no desire; far from it. He had his little crushes growing up, but was simply too embarrassed by what the loving Allfather had called his “deformity” to share himself fully with a partner. Neither could he find release with his own hand, for no matter how hard he tried to conceal his feminine sex, when he became aroused, his energy channels conflicted, and he reverted to his natural, dual-sexed Jotunn self.

 

Nothing snuffs out pleasure quite like being reminded you’re a freak.

 

Now, because of the cursed torque, Loki has no choice but to inhabit his true form, utterly exposed as Thor focuses intently on the mess between his legs.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Thor says, so sincerely it makes Loki’s chest constrict.

 

Damn him.

 

Before Loki has a chance to give some snide reply, Thor grabs his flaccid cock and holds it out of the way, then dips his blond head down to kiss the inside of Loki’s thigh.

 

Loki rears up.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Thor pushes him back down coolly with a palm to the chest. “I’m taking my _payment_.”

 

Loki lays back slowly. Fine. Fine. He can take this. He can -

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

Thor is mouthing down the inside of his legs, the warmth radiating off him like the core of a star, and Loki’s body awakens, responding eagerly to Thor’s ministrations as though he were merely the instrument of a fine musician. His breath comes quicker as Thor’s kisses come closer, ever closer to where Loki wants them most, until Loki can feel his hot breath and prickle of his beard on his lips. Then, to Loki’s infinite frustration,Thor pulls back to tease along the crease of his thigh. Loki had never really considered that anyone, let alone _Thor_ , would want to kiss him, well, _there_. Does he….like doing this? Does he do it with all his lovers? His wife?

 

Because he’s certainly _good_  at it.

 

Thor repeats this pattern again, and again, until Loki’s pride collapses entirely.

 

“You keep all your _girls_ hanging like this? Come _on_!”

 

Thor peers up at him, one eyebrow quirked,  then finally, finally, sweeps the pad of his tongue up the length of his slit.  

 

“Ah, fuck,” Loki gasps, clutching at the bedspread. It feels wet and weird and _wonderful_ , and Loki tilts his hips up in a silent plea for more. Thor obliges, sinking his tongue in deeper and lapping at the sweetness inside. Loki isn’t used to the sensations his cunt affords - having concealed it for as long as he can remember - so every flick and dart of Thor’s tongue is an unknown quantity, so new and foreign Loki feels like inhabiting an entirely new body.  

 

Thor seems to notice Loki stiffening in his fist and gives him a few tentative, clumsy strokes, which despite the lack of technique, still rouses Loki to full hardness. Loki suspects Thor doesn’t really know what to do with a cock - Thor is, to Loki’s knowledge, exclusively attracted to women - but he does not shy away from it, and rubs at the head with his thumb until Loki is rolling his hips helplessly into his grasp.

 

Loki curses as Thor resumes lapping at him, eventually releasing his cock so he can spread Loki’s legs wide with one hand and tease the opening of his cunt with the other. Loki grabs Thor’s thick hair and unconsciously grinds his hips onto Thor’s open mouth, as if to smother him in his cunt, always needing more. It’s so impossibly arousing to have that familiar blond head between his legs, that tongue inside the most secret part of him -

 

_Fuck. Oh, fuck._

Loki is wet too, he knows this because Thor easily sinks his fingers in, thrusting them in and out and then pressing up, and oh, Loki remembers that from last time, the feeling of red-hot pleasure coming from some hidden place deep inside his body. The sensation almost painful, and yet Loki finds he has no choice but to writhe up and meet it. He might be moaning, or begging, or sobbing, but he doesn’t care; he just needs Thor to keep going, keep going, right there - rub him _right there_ , inside, and lick him outside and work in tandem and -

 

“I’m coming,” Loki pants, “Ah, damn you, don’t stop.”

 

Loki throws his head back and feels his orgasm crash upon him like the crest of a great wave, and he cries out, twisting his fists in Thor’s hair mercilessly to keep him exactly where he needs him. The contractions start from deep inside his cunt, around Thor’s slick fingers, then move through to his cock, where he spills across his stomach. The pleasure rolls over his body, down to his curling toes and back up again, and Loki convulses erratically in pleasure before falling boneless to the bed, utterly spent and gasping.

 

When he finally manages to open his eyes, Thor is propped up between his spread legs, watching him with searing intensity, a flicker of smug victory across his handsome features.  His lips and chin glisten with Loki’s juices, and even that is strangely arousing in a way Loki knows it probably shouldn’t be.  

 

As the afterglow of orgasm fades, the knot of nerves forms in Loki’s stomach anew. Thor is stormy-eyed; his lust awesome and terrible. Surely Thor will want him now. Will it be the same as last time? What if he wants Loki to return the favour and take him down his throat?

 

Ah well. Mustn’t leave him wanting.

 

Loki swallows his nerves and reaches down between them, rubbing Thor’s prick outside his breeches. Unsurprisingly, he’s as hard and unforgiving as Mjolnir itself, and much bigger than Loki remembers - how did he ever manage to get that monster inside him?

 

…...and up his arse, no less. There ought to be a prize.

 

Loki takes the plunge and reaches for the laces, but Thor grunts, batting his hand away. To Loki's shock, he rises and collects his discarded cloak off the floor.

 

Loki blinks.

 

“Thor?”

 

Thor wraps the cloak over his shoulders. He’s still brutally hard in his breeches, and he’s not…..he’s not doing something about it?

 

“Where are you going? Thor?” Loki peels himself off the bed and trails after his brother. He knows his hair is a dishevelled mess, and his voice is croaky from the impassioned cries Thor has coaxed from him.

 

_Pathetic._

“Don’t you want me to finish you -” Loki grabs at Thor’s arm but Thor shakes him off as though he were but a small child.

 

“It is late, Loki. Get some rest.”

 

At that, he unceremoniously takes his leave, bolting the door behind him and rendering Loki utterly speechless.

 

Well. He is capable of surprises after all.

 

 

  
  
  


 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor likes anal.  
> Loki likes anal too, but that’s not the point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I, evidently, have a lot of feelings about anal.  
> this is truly an unredeemable quagmire of filth, ~~I’m so so sorry~~ i have needs ok
> 
> twisty thorki pornz for my twisty love dangereuse. My only goal in life is to make her flail. blame and/or thank her for this. Also posted just in time for thorkizilla's birthday! Thank you guys for your love and encouragement :)
> 
> Comments and feedback welcome :)

Loki is pacing.

 

He’s going to wear a path in the stones at this rate. Around the table, again and again, always in the same direction because Loki, in some things, is as unbendable as the torque that binds him. He tries going in the opposite direction for the sake of it, but it feels unnatural and strange, so he quickly reverts back. He runs a few laps until the room begins to spin on its own.

 

The exercise makes Loki feel hot, too hot. The room is suffocating, the walls close in. Loki rushes to his window and breathes in the brisk fresh air in great gulps. The urge to cast a cooling spell prickles incessantly underneath his skin, and Loki grits his teeth to keep himself from succumbing to  temptation. He’s carrying too much magic inside, pent up from the months of being bound. It’s a constant, gnawing pressure in his mind that never really goes away; the best Loki can do is to try to ignore it.

 

_Calm down._

 

_Just breathe._

 

Loki is astute enough to know that it isn’t the metal itself that keeps in his magic. No, the torque is merely a means through which the hated binding spell does its work. If Loki retreats deeply enough into himself, he can sense the metaphysical prison walls that enclose his magic. Loki has spent countless hours searching in vain for some weakness - a crack  that could allow him to puncture the barrier - but thus far, has found none. The Allfather had assembled the greatest sorcerers in the Nine Realms to curse him; he made very sure that Loki would be securely contained.

 

Having grown up expressing his magic freely, Loki was completely unprepared for how torturous it is to be denied. Had Odin had known how it would affect him thus? That it would weigh heavily on his shoulders like a yoke, pushing Loki ever closer to his breaking point?

 

Loki is already the dreading heat of the Asgardian summers. His natural form doesn’t cope well with heat, and his room is so dank and stuffy as it is  It would be better to be in the cool dungeon, deep underground. Maybe he could get transferred if he attacked Erling. Maybe he’ll attack Erling just for the sake of attacking Erling. Loki has to take amusement where he can, these days.

 

From the position of the beam of light on his floor, Loki can tell it’s almost sunset, which would mean that it has almost been three days since he’s seen or heard from Thor.

 

Three days.

 

Where exactly did he misstep? He thought it’d be simple, keeping Thor’s attention. Thor is a beast. He eats, he fights, he shits, he fucks. Allowing Thor full rights to his flesh, Loki assumed, ought to be enough to have him coming back every night. Loki would not refuse him anything, not like that frigid little girl. What more could that animal want?

 

_Love._

 

_But at least he is man enough to admit it._

 

“Bah,” Loki says aloud, to no one.

 

He sits down at his desk and gazes at his reflection, his vacant eyes staring blankly back at him. The reflection winces at the state of his hair, the dull pallor of his skin.

 

_Put your hair up, you look a mess._

 

Loki pulls his hair back, collecting it into a pile at the back of his head. He admires the way his features look, how the hairstyle frames his face. He could pin it like this, in the style many ladies of the court wear. Thor would probably like that. Thor likes treating him like a woman.

 

Loki frowns and lets it fall over his shoulders again.

 

“Doesn’t matter. He’s not going to come.”

 

_He might._

 

“He’s not, and even if he did, he prefers it down.”

 

_He likes undoing it. He likes the hint of wave after it’s been plaited.  He likes mussing you up._

 

“Fine!” Loki bites, and wets his hairbrush to sleek down the flyaways. He runs it through his hair a few times, then braids it with practiced fingers. It looks marginally better like this, Loki supposes. If only he could think of some way to brighten the dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps he could request some kind of creme.

 

Loki pauses, his frown deepening.

 

Was he just speaking to himself?

 

***

 

Thor doesn’t come that night.

 

The next day, Loki undoes his braid four times because it wasn’t _just so._

 

“Did Odin get my letter yet." he asks casually as he takes a bite from the platter of food he’d just been brought.

 

“I had it delivered as you requested, my lord, but I know not whether he has read it yet.”

 

That, Loki knows, is gaoler-speak for _Odin has more important things to take care of than the well-being of his disgraced, recalcitrant son._

 

“The Allfather is occupied, of late. I’m sure he will answer your entreaty in time.”

 

“Don’t baby me, you shrivelled, miserable old fart!” Loki hisses. “I’m not stupid. He purposefully ignores me, I know it!. He probably wants me to grovel for any shred of his mercy. Oh, wouldn’t he simply _love_ that. Having wretched, contrite Loki beg like a dog just for some fresh reading material. Well, I’m not going to humor his petty little games. I won’t give him the satisfaction.” 

 

“I will ask again on your behalf -”

 

“I don’t need your help!” Loki shouts. “Just get out!”

 

Erling bows _,_ no doubt eager to leave Loki in peace.

 

“Wait,” Loki says suddenly. Erling turns, mouth in a firm line, as if he’s bracing himself should Loki throw something at him. It wouldn’t be the first time. “What of Thor?”

 

Erling knits his eyebrows. “My Lord?”

 

“Are you simple?” Loki enunciates carefully, as one would to a slow child. “Thor, your most august prince. About yay high, blonde hair, garish red cape. Where is he?”

 

The gaoler takes this abuse, as ever, with schooled neutrality.

 

“His Royal Highness Prince Thor has gone to hunt the mighty beast Hgrofsil with the aid of Lady Sif and his Three Companions -”

 

Loki rolls his eyes. Doesn’t Thor have anything better to do? There are plenty of Asgardian legionnaires he could have dispatched in his stead. That arrogant, prideful fool, wanting all the glory for himself! 

 

Well. Loki wouldn’t deign to go on such a stupid, pointless quest, even if he could leave this fucking room. The days of him chasing after Thor - of contributing to _Thor’s glory_ \- are over.

 

It is said that the beast Hgrofsil has skin of venom that causes any who touch it to break out into a blistering rash. Oh, wouldn’t that be a sight: Thor’s pristine, golden skin marred with patches of angry red boils. He’d have to stand at court like that too, and all would see what a bumbling, reckless fool they have in the Crown Prince of Asgard.

 

 Loki grins to himself, then he snaps back to the present with a scowl.

 

“What, are you going to stand there and gape at me all day? I said _get out!_ ”

 

***

 

He gets his reply a few days later. Much to Loki’s ire, Odin refuses to grant him the privilege of weekly trips to the library, even with an armed escort. Instead, Loki gets a box full of -

 

“What is this,” Loki states evenly, sifting through the box’s contents. There are a few books, some fabric, a few different sized frames. He selects a book among the dozen.

 

Embroidery. It’s all on embroidery. Oh, how very funny indeed. First, make Loki inhabit his female form. Then, encourage him to cultivate his _feminine_ virtues!

 

“The Almighty Allfather will reconsider your original request if you present a sample of needlework that is to his liking.”

 

“Make me jump through hoops like a circus animal,” Loki mutters.

 

“He has sent these items to you…...” The messenger goes on with a gulp, “......in the hopes that by learning this skill, you might grow in the virtue of patience.”

 

“I see.” Loki thumbs the cover of a pattern book thoughtfully.  “Grow in the virtue of patience, hmm? That’s what he said? How’s this for _growing in the virtue of patience_?”

 

The messenger manages to shield himself with his arms as he is struck by the thrown book. He yelps and flees, but not before Loki manages to throw the second book at his head. At least Loki’s imprisonment has given him ample opportunity to improve his aim.

 

***

 

By the fifth day, Thor still hasn't come back.

 

It speaks to Loki’s boredom that he  ends up reading the needlework books, and grudgingly develops a new appreciation for the skill.

 

……..But he’s not going to let Odin get to him. Oh no.  He’s not going to lower himself to pander to Odin’s whims. Loki still has some pride left.

 

Loki slinks over to the door, sewing needles in hand, and crouches down near the keyhole.  He knows this is a stupid idea, but _oh,_ wouldn’t the Allfather have a fit if he knew Loki had escaped the tower with _sewing needles_? Sewing needles _that he himself had sent_? Loki would never make it out of Asgard, that’s for certain. He’d be apprehended before he even reached the palace gates. Odin would think up some additional sadistic punishment, surely; although Loki can’t even imagine anything worse than the punishment he currently endures. Still, the thought of escape is enough to make his lips curl in a maniacal grin.

 

This task would be simple, if he only had his magic. He’d simply reach in with his seidr tendrils, tap the pin tumblers until the lock sprung free. That, or punch through the door with a blast of venomous energy. Loki would blow this entire tower to smithereens and piss on its ashes.

 

 As it is, Loki has no idea what he’s doing. He fishes around inside the lock haphazardly - the needle isn’t long enough, and too straight, and much too flimsy. He huffs, frustrated, and wriggles it around inside until it breaks off in the keyhole.

 

Loki sighs, slumping over and thumping his head against the heavy wooden door.

 

There is only one way out of this room.

 

***

 

It’s on the seventh night that Thor finally - _finally_ \- returns to him.

 

Loki’s eyes close in silent resignation as he hear Thor’s lumbering footsteps ascend the stairwell outside his door. He pinches his cheek to try and bring some color to them and make himself look a little less lifeless. 

 

“Right,” he says, and takes a breath to steady himself.

 

Thor slinks in, closes the door softly behind him and pads towards the bed. Loki feels his brother’s weight dip the mattress, can see spots of red light behind his closed lids where Thor sets his lantern down on his nightstand.

 

“I know you aren’t asleep, Loki,” Thor says. He’s learned that much from last time.

 

Loki opens his eyes. Thor is bright and golden and reckless in the flickering lamplight, looming menacingly over Loki’s prone form. Even in the dim light, Loki can tell Thor’s indulged in more than his fair share of drink this night, and Loki is not sure if it will fare better or worse for him because of it.

 

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

 

“I tried,” Thor admits. “I am weak.”

 

Thor pulls the covers back and slips inside, so that the warm length of his body is pressed up against Loki’s. He breathes in deeply at the crook of Loki’s neck and rumbles, deep in his chest.

 

Loki can feel how desperate Thor is, grinding wantonly against Loki’s hip. He’s hot, very hot, his passions inflamed with his recent victory. He’s eaten his fill, drunk more than his share, now all that’s left is to find release in a warm, eager bedmate.

 

Thor presses his mouth to Loki’s, hot and wet and claiming, and coaxes Loki’s lips open with his tongue. Thor is everywhere, suffocating, engulfing all his senses, hot and heavy. His hand snakes up beneath Loki’s sleep shirt, and he cups Loki’s chest as though Loki had breasts, and Loki fumes inwardly. He’s not a woman! 

 

Loki puts up a struggle, if only to feel Thor’s brute strength hold him in place. Thor grunts and merely rolls half atop him, and that alone is enough to bring Loki to heel. Thor is immovable, solid, massive.  Moreover, Thor _likes_ this, even if he’ll never admit it. Thor _likes_ to pin Loki down, likes to feel Loki squirm futilely underneath him. Indulging him in his basest desires ought to keep him enthralled, and Loki cannot afford to be forgotten.

 

“Missed me, brother?” Loki smirks into Thor’s shoulder.

 

Thor growls, but there is a certain satisfied rumble to it that would indicate the affirmative. in his mind’s eye, Loki imagines the dull, methodical sex Thor had probably been having in his marital bed - of Thor thrusting into his girl-bride’s icy body as she lay lifeless like a mound of meat on a butcher’s block. How much more satisfying it to have a bedmate with some spark! It is Thor’s nature to want to conquer, and there is nothing else in the world worth conquering more than  wayward, flighty Loki.

 

Thor manages to pin Loki’s wrists together above his head in a brutal, ironclad grip. Something in Loki’s face must give him pause, because then he stills, considering Loki closely. _Apprehensively._

 

No. Loki needs him to do this, so that he is reminded of the oath he’d made, of the bargain Loki had brokered. He mustn’t let Thor’s _conscience_ get in the way.

 

Loki plasters a seductive smirk on his face, and grinds his hip up against Thor’s erection.

 

“Because I missed _you.”_

 

At Loki’s goading, the doubt instantly dissipates from Thor’s face, and he turns dark. “Don’t toy with me tonight, Loki.”

 

“I would never,” Loki says, eyes wide in mock offence, “I only mean to bring you pleasure, _my lord_. It pained me greatly that you were left wanting last time. I very much hope you found your release,  even if it was not from the comfort of my body.”

 

“Is that so,” Thor says. “Would you be jealous, then, to learn that I’d bedded a laundry maid in your stead?”

 

“My Lord can do as he pleases,” Loki says smoothly, “But evidently, such harried trysts are no longer to your satisfaction, else you would not be here.”

 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Thor says, “but as it happens, I didn’t lay with anyone that night,” Thor knees Loki’s legs apart so he can lay between them. He grinds his cock into the juncture of Loki’s legs, and Loki groans unwillingly at the friction. “I haven’t had anyone since I saw you last.”

 

“A record,” Loki murmurs, smug. “It’s been what, a week? no wonder you felt the urge to go kill something. I bet you thought of me too, as you thrust your spear into the monster’s flesh, over and over….”

 

“Loki,” Thor growls, undulating his body against Loki’s.

 

“Go on, then. Just admit you desire me above all others,” Loki coats his taunt in acid to mask the insecurity behind the words. He _needs_ to hear Thor say it, but he’ll be damned before he reveals just how badly. “That no one else ignites your lust as I do.”

 

“No one else _provokes_ me like you do,” Thor counters, and thrusts harshly against Loki’s hips.  “I don’t know why you are doing this, what twisted ends you seek. But I’ve given up trying to unravel you.”  Thor’s mouth sets in a firm line. “I’m going to fuck you.”

 

Loki grins, even as a knot forms in his stomach. This _is_ what he wants.  “Who says I’ll submit?”

 

“I’m not in the mood to humor your little games tonight.” Thor says, and the hard glint in his eye is truly frightening. “I am not asking your permission.”

 

Thor’s grip on Loki’s wrists tightens, crushing the bones together.

 

 Loki smirks, “Spoken like a true king.”

 

With a final squeeze, Thor releases Loki’s wrists and takes hold of his hips instead. He backs off just enough to allow Loki some room to manoeuvre.

 

“On your stomach.”

 

Loki complies, if only because he finds himself too tired to try and fight Thor on it. At least facing away from Thor will allow him to hide himself away. Too often, far too often, Thor manages to break through his carefully crafted defences. Loki won’t let himself be caught unaware again. 

 

“You intend to take me like a dog?”

 

“Like a mare,” Thor corrects, “The Midgardians _do_ have that charming myth about you.”

 

Loki snarls and bucks up, but Thor easily keeps him in place. He reaches around Loki to grab his cock and Loki immediately stills, lest Thor accidentally rip it off.

 

“Peace, brother. Or do you not like it when you are antagonized in return?”

 

Thor begins to stroke him idly, draped heavy across Loki’s back. And curse him, Loki _does_ feel rather like a mare being mounted by a stallion; a great golden stallion in its youthful prime, brimming with  exuberance and vigour and zest for life. The thought excites Loki more than he’d like, and he quickly hardens inside Thor’s fist.

 

“There now,” Thor says, as if sensing Loki’s thoughts. “There you go.”

 

Thor does not linger long on Loki’s cock. He draws back and undoes the drawstring on Loki’s sleep pants to slide them down over Loki’s ass.  Loki shivers at the cool air, but the sensation is not unwelcome; Loki is beginning to feel very hot indeed, and not simply from being pressed against Thor’s scorching body heat. He feels utterly exposed like this, ass and cunt on display for Thor’s greedy eyes and hands. He must look all the more female from this position, especially after Thor knocks his legs further apart and tilts his hips up, forcing his back into an uncomfortable arch. The thought strikes him that Thor must like this, must prefer Loki to be in a woman-like attitude. Loki wonders if he’d be aroused to find him lounging in women’s underclothes and stockings. The thought makes Loki wince, but then, look how low he’s already sunk…...

 

Thor runs his hands down Loki’s flank, up underneath his rucked up shirt, then down over his ass and thighs. Loki can just picture how smug he must look, looming over Loki’s naked, waiting body, yet another notch in his bedpost- 

 

“You’ve gone quiet,” Thor remarks. “Suddenly shy?”

 

“I’m waiting for you to get on with it! Or did you wake me for nothing? If all you were going to do is look - ah!”  Loki gasps as he feels thick fingers probing along his cunt lips, slipping in between the heated folds of flesh.

 

Thor holds him firm at his waist and folds himself over Loki’s back. His voice drips mirth and condescension as he works his hand between Loki’s parted legs. “Easy, filly.”

 

“Fuck you,” Loki spits, but there isn’t a lot of bite to it, not when Thor’s fingers easily slip into his wet cunt and begin to rub at his insides. Loki’s forehead drops to the pillow beneath him and he shudders. “Fuck.”

 

And damn him, Thor _does_ know a woman’s body, more than Loki cares to admit. Thor presses down harshly on the front wall, making Loki squirm and gasp, then rattles his hand to make a sort of vibration -

 

“Fuck,” Loki croaks again, cursing himself for not being able to think of anything more clever than that. Light flares behind his eyelids, and all the while, Thor is warm and weighty at his back, pressing opened mouth kisses to the column of his spine.

 

“I’m feeling magnanimous,” Thor declares, “You’ll come before I take you.”

 

“You arrogant bastard,” Loki snaps, “You arrogant, presumptuous bastard. Just fuck me already; it’s what you came here for.”

 

“Soon enough.”

 

Thor slips in another finger, tugging at the walls of Loki’s virgin cunt. He continues that bloody rattling, and the sensation is intense, too intense, yet Loki helplessly rolls his hips into it nonetheless. Loki is so preoccupied with Thor’s ministrations that he doesn’t notice Thor’s other hand where it begins to knead at his ass, inching towards the seam. He realizes too late that there’s a slick finger at his asshole, first rubbing tentatively, then pressing inward, ever so slightly -

 

Loki jerks, distressingly, _towards_ the questing digit rather than away. The horrible implications of it makes his arousal spike, and he moans, clutching feverishly at the sheets beneath him. It’s when Thor finally sinks it in, even more distressingly, that Loki’s body finds its climax.

 

“Ahhh, fuck,” Loki says, half in frustration. Of course that would be what pushes him over the edge. _Of course._

 

Thor patiently fingers him through his orgasm, until the contractions in his cunt and arse subside and Loki is left slumped and breathing shakily. Thor pulls his fingers out of Loki’s quim, but retains his thumb, tugging at Loki’s rim carefully but not entirely gently. Loki starts as he feels more cool, slippery liquid being poured over his hole. It’s then, Loki realizes, what Thor intends to do to him. What Thor came here for in the first place. He’d _prepared_ for this.

 

Loki can’t say he’s surprised Thor would want anal sex again, but it doesn’t make him any less nervous. It had _hurt_ , and he doubts Thor would show any more restraint this time.

 

This is the awful price he must pay.

 

“You want - ” The words catch in his throat.

 

Thor stills his ministrations. “Will you deny me?” he asks, but Loki thinks he detects a note of concern in his voice; a fault line of guilt Loki could exploit.

 

But then, Thor could very well leave and find someone else to fuck, and that simply would not do, either.

 

Loki tries to keep his voice from wavering - no small task, given that Thor’s thumb is still up his arsehole and that he’s about to be fucked in the most wretched and debased way. Nonetheless, Loki does his best to piece himself together and muster a bit of bite.

 

“Come now, Thor. I may be your whore, but I am at least upright enough not to renege on my word. I said anything and I meant it. Although I must say, when I made this arrangement with you, I hadn’t considered that you would be one to enjoy - how should I put it - _wallowing in the sewers._ ”

 

“It was a brash decision on my part, perhaps,” Thor says, resuming working his thick fingers inside Loki, “But I find I rather like you like this.”

 

Loki snorts. “You would, wouldn’t you.”

 

“Yes,” Thor affirms, “But not for the reason you think.”

 

At that, he retracts his fingers and shuffles behind Loki, aligning himself behind him. Loki’s nerve crumbles when he feels Thor’s hard cock against his arsehole, indomitable and unforgiving, and he unwittingly tenses against it.

 

“Just go slow,” Loki blurts out, “Go slow, Thor please.”

 

“Relax,” Thor shushes, and Loki laughs, half-mad. How easy for him to say!

 

Loki cries out when Thor breaches him. The stretch is too much, too fast, and it aches, deep in his entrails. While the oil and the preparations eased the way somewhat, Thor is _big,_ his cock fat and steel-hard. Trapped underneath Thor’s grip, Loki has no choice but to yield,  inch by agonizing inch, until Thor is rooted to the hilt.

 

“So tight,” Thor is groaning. “So good for me, Loki.”

 

Loki gurgles something in response, half-muffled in the pillow, but he refrains from begging Thor to pull out and just fuck him normally. His cunt is still weeping with the aftershocks of orgasm, desperate to be filled by something more substantial than Thor’s fingers. He’d even suck him off - Loki is beyond caring how filthy that would make him look.  Not that it matters - he’d committed to this, and Loki is, as ever, much too stubborn for his own good.

 

“Hush,” Thor soothes. His hands clutch at Loki’s hips like a vice, and curls himself over Loki’s back to rest his forehead between Loki’s shoulder blades. At some point, he’d taken off his shirt, because now Loki feels a vast expanse of hot, damp skin against his own. When Thor speaks his voice is parched, and Loki knows he’s struggling to hold himself back. “You’re too tense. You have to relax.”

 

“I’m trying!” Loki whines, frustrated tears pooling in his eyes. Stars, he’s _big._ “You don’t think I’m trying? If you insist on fucking my ass at least give me a moment to adjust, you brute!”

 

Thor huffs. He twitches impatiently at Loki’s back like he wants nothing more than to fuck in, claim, own, dominate. Thor’s reservoir of self-restraint is shallow indeed; Loki isn’t sure how long he can keep Thor’s awesome, terrible lust at bay before he inevitably snaps and indulges his primal berserker impulses. In this, Loki feels rather like a leaky dam, barely able to hold back the oncoming onslaught of floodwater.

 

“Can I - “

 

“Not yet!” Loki barks, somewhat more feebly than he’d like. “Just - just give it a moment.”

 

To his credit, Thor does, and Loki is grateful for his mercy, for he knows that Thor is under no obligation to take his feelings or preferences into account. Thor could rip him to shreds, if he so chose. Who would Loki tell? Who would believe the Golden Odinson capable of such cruelty? And even if he were to be believed, would they simply say he'd deserved it?

 

It’s better this way, Loki decides. It’s better than being held close and having Thor whisper sweet, empty nothings into his ear as he no doubt does to all his faceless, simpering girls.  This way, he can pretend it’s just fucking. Let Thor rut like a dog. Let him wring his perverse pleasure from Loki’s broken body. This is a transaction; nothing more.

 

So why is his chest so tight?

 

The intense throbbing subsides to a dull ache, and Loki supposes this is as good as it will get.

 

“Alright.” Loki swallows. “Alright. You can - you can move. Just, gently.”

 

Thor grunts and begins to move in slow, steady pace, the slide of his cock searing Loki’s insides. Loki feels open, unnaturally so, raw and vulnerable. The fact that Thor would do this to him and him alone imbues the act with a kind weird and frightening intimacy. This is a side of Thor no one else sees. Thor, who would break his body down, but not enough to destroy; who would have him come apart but will always be there to pick up the pieces. Thor, who is the sun around which Loki’s entire existence orbits. Thor, who runs so far and rises so high that Loki has never been able to keep up. Thor, who is the only person Loki has ever truly loved.

 

Loki laughs crazily into the pillow. To become so soft and sentimental from _this!_ He truly is becoming a woman. 

 

“Fuck me,” Loki orders, to neutralize these unpleasant feelings. “Come on, then, Thunderer. Fuck me.”

 

Thor’s thrusts are becoming a bit sharper as Loki loosens, and the pain lessens from excruciating to somewhat tolerable. Worse still, there is sickening pleasure in the pain, in the act of utter surrender, in being made low.  Loki whimpers unwittingly and curses himself for it. He has always harboured self-destructive tendencies -  it is the unfortunate, fateful constant in his life -  so perhaps he can hardly be blamed for the hot pool of arousal that is beginning to form with each of quickening rut of Thor’s hips. There must be something deeply, deeply wrong with him, in the way his treacherous body responds. He is a truly wretched, depraved creature indeed, taking _pleasure_ in his own degradation. Loki _likes_ this. It’s filthy and wrong and he _likes_ it.

 

At first, Loki prayed Thor wouldn’t notice, but it’s perhaps all too obvious in the way Loki is angling his hips up, moaning desperately, moving with Thor’s body as if they were one flesh. He snakes his hand down between his open legs, rubbing tentatively around his cock and slit. The added stimulation makes him clench down hard on Thor’s prick, and Thor growls approvingly, picking up speed.

 

“Oh fuck me,” Loki repeats desperately. “Please fuck me.”

 

Loki’s fingers quest farther back, and now he can feel where Thor’s cock obscenely spears his ass, where they are joined in unholy union. Thors arm wraps around his waist, and soon Loki’s slim fingers are joined by Thor’s thick ones, rubbing him along his sensitive folds. It’s enough to make Loki buck into Thor’s continuing thrusts, eager for more stimulation, to push him just that much closer to release.

 

“You are no whore,” Thor says, fucking in deep, “Loki. My Loki. _Ást_.”

 

At that, Thor thrusts in a final time, and Loki comes with a strangled sob. The contractions ripple through his ass and his cunt almost painfully, but it’s good too, it’s so, so good. Thor is there with him, rocking into his body to ride him to his own completion. Distantly, Loki hears Thor roar as he spills in his ass, and Loki knows, objectively, that he should feel disgusted by it. Sullied by it. But he can’t summon the will; the pleasure is all-consuming, cascading down to his toes, then up his spine and back down again. His vision whites out to blank spots, and all he can feel is Thor’s heavy, leaden weight pressed flush against his back, Thor’s damp breath at his neck, Thor’s strong arms closing in around his waist.

 

Spent, they both collapse in a sweaty mess. Thor waits a beat before pulling out, almost regretfully, like it pained him to extricate himself from Loki’s tangled limbs. He flops himself down at Loki’s side and gathers Loki into his arms, which Loki allows simply because he is too exhausted to do anything else. Thor is resplendent and beautiful in his post coital glow - so beautiful it hurts to look at him - so Loki  averts his gaze, tucks his head into the crook of of Thor’s arm, and lays still as Thor hushes him and caresses his back. In the wake of orgasm, the throbbing in his head has muted, the turmoil in his mind has been blessedly silenced. Even the torque does not seem quite so burdensome when he is lying in Thor’s embrace - as if Thor is somehow helping him bear the weight.

 

If Thor notices Loki’s wet cheeks, he doesn’t mention it.

 

“Sometimes I think,” Thor says softly after Loki’s breathing has evened out, “That the only time you’re ever honest with me is when I hurt you.”

 

Loki closes his eyes and says nothing.

 

***

 

Loki wakes some time later to find that Thor, unsurprisingly, has left - back to his own bed where he belongs.

 

It’s early morning, the crisp night time air only starting to dissipate with coming daybreak.  Another day to waste away, just like the hundreds that came before and the thousands that are yet to come. An infinity of drudging monotony ahead of him. 

 

Loki rubs his eyes. He feels wrung out and exhausted, to say nothing of the ache in his ass and the bruises on his hips. Thor is rough, much too rough even in his affection, while Loki finds himself growing ever more _fragile._ Although he was never Thor’s equal in brute strength, at his peak, Loki could hold his own in battle against his brother well enough. It is only since his collaring that Loki has noticed his vigor begin to dwindle. He never realized just how much his physical constitution was bound up him his magic. Next time, Thor might  snap him in two.

 

He shouldn’t begrudge Thor for leaving in the night. Thor has official business to attend to, a young pretty wife, and a child on the way. Loki ought to be grateful that Thor takes time to visit him at all, even if it is just to fuck him.

 

A horrible knot forms in his throat - there is no way to be certain when Thor will visit him again. It could be days, weeks. 

 

Loki is struck with the same recurring thought that has gnawed at his mind ever since he first set his twisted scheme into motion: there might very well come a day when Thor stops visiting him altogether. He’ll be a father soon, after all, and Odin will abdicate the throne to him. He could have any pussy in the Nine Realms - or arse, for that matter. What makes Loki’s so special?

 

Loki doesn’t sleep for the next two nights.

 

What little rest he gets is fitful, leaving him more exhausted than before.  It’s this room. He can’t fucking sleep in this room. There is no air in here, and the days are becoming warmer and warmer. Summer will soon break, and Loki will surely suffocate.

 

Loki carefully assembles the shattered pieces of himself back together -  or at least, enough so that when Thor visits him again Loki won’t fall all over him like a stupid gushing woman. If Thor could take anyone for his bed, Loki reasons, then he has to be different. He has to stand out. Thor is a conqueror, a _hunter_. He may hold the right to claim Loki’s body in the carnal manner of his choosing, but Loki will be damned before he lets him have sovereignty over his innermost self.  Loki has nowhere to run, but that does not mean that he cannot be chased……..

 

He gets his chance on the third day, when Thor visits him in the evening. It’s early, and Loki quickly snuffs out the secret, niggling yearning for Thor to stay longer than just for a simple fuck. He’s here now; that’s all that matters. Everything else is irrelevant.

 

Thor is dressed in his ceremonial armor, which means he has official business and won’t be staying long. He frowns as Loki greets him with nothing more than the barest civility. Thor probably pictures him sitting here, pining for his return like some dejected puppy. As true as that might be, Loki would rather languish here forever then let Thor know it.

 

Thor puts a brave face on it, nonetheless.

 

“The forecasters say it will be warm this week,” he says, fishing in his sack, “And because of the Ambassador’s reception,  I wasn’t sure when I would be able to see you next, so I thought I’d bring this to you now, in case you needed it.”

 

Loki feigns disinterest, but the spoilt prince in him _does_ enjoy receiving gifts, and his curiosity soon gets the better of him. He slinks over to where Thor is standing as nonchalantly as he is able.

 

Thor produces a small cloth bundle, about the size and shape of a goose egg.

 

“What is it?”

 

Thor unwraps it carefully, but only enough so Loki can peek inside.

 

“Ice,” Thor says simply, “Enchanted to never melt, never drip. It should exude enough cold to help chill your entire room. I know how uncomfortable the heat makes you, and I thought it might bring you some relief…..”

 

Loki takes the small bundle from Thor’s hands. He can feel the soothing coldness radiating off it, and his body sings in response. Loki’s face betrays nothing, and Thor shuffles his feet.

 

“I uh, was considering that perhaps you’d want a larger slab to rest on…” Thor goes on, unsure of how to broach the uncomfortable topic of Loki’s Jotunn heritage, “But the palace mages have never had to cast an enchantment quite like this before. This is the best they could do for now, but I’m sure, in time, they will find a way to increase the breadth of the spell’s potency.”

 

Loki thumbs over the cool, slippery surface. It feels good, _very_ good.

 

Loki meets Thor’s hopeful blue eyes, his face brimming with anticipation and fondness and a whole host of other emotions Loki does not want to acknowledge. Presumptuous fool! He probably expected Loki to fall to his knees and suck his cock in gratitude.

 

No. Loki still has _some_ of his wounded pride left to nurse. He’d been careless enough to let Thor take him apart before, and he isn’t particularly keen on having it happen again. If he lets his guard down again he might do something incredibly foolish.

 

Like cry.

 

Loki says detachedly,  “That is - very kind of you.”

 

Thor waits a beat, as if waiting for Loki to say something else, and slowly his brow begins to furrow in consternation. This is evidently not the response he’d anticipated. Loki does not find his disappointment quite as satisfying as he’d previously envisioned.

 

“Alright,” Thor says awkwardly, “Well, that’s it, I suppose. I just wanted to give you - that. I’m sorry, I must away, but I will see you again soon.” He presses a quick kiss to Loki’s forehead, and is gone is a swirl of red fabric.

 

Loki stands there, ice-egg  in hand, for a long while before he finally snaps to. He stiffly sits at his vanity and stares at his reflection, then back down at his egg, then back to his reflection.

 

 _Well done_.

 

“Shut up,” Loki mutters.

 

***

 

Loki spends the better part of next day marvelling at his egg and trying to forget the bungled manner of its acquisition. He rolls it around in his hands and up his arms until the skin prickles with goosebumps. The egg leaves a trail of moisture along his skin but doesn’t seem to ever lose mass. As the water evaporates, it draws the heat from Loki’s flesh, leaving him feeling pleasantly cool and refreshed. It’s a remarkable bit of magic, Loki grants, but it is hardly the wonder Thor made it out to be. It is easier to enchant an object in alignment with its properties rather than try and impose powers on it that run counter to its nature. Loki never bothered to learn enchantments - having always preferred to cast seidr as needed - but he supposes there are certain advantages to the practice. If he had had the chance to cache some of his magic in a secret object before he’d been collared, he might’ve been able to access it and use it to free himself from this wretched state.

 

Loki gathers his hair out of the way glides the egg over the back of his neck, then over his collarbones. It feels _so good,_ especially on the raw skin under his torque.He can’t remember cold ever feeling this good when he was in his full Aesir form. He supposes he should feel thankful that the cold isn’t turning him blue, at least. He is not exactly sure why this would be so, although Loki suspects that Odin is trying to keep that bit of dirty laundry private. As far as Loki knows, the truth of his ancestry has been kept from the Asgardian populace, no doubt to avoid a full blown royal scandal. Loki is not so naive as to believe, however, that this is purely out of concern for his own reputation and well-being. So long as they are joined under the false pretense of _family_ , Odin will feel bound to protect him. It wouldn’t do to have all the Nine Realms discover his greatest mistake. It is Odin’s own self-preservation that drives him, nothing more.

 

Well. For now, Loki will take comfort in whatever form he can find it.

 

Feeling adventurous, Loki lifts his robe and glides it over his calves, behind his knees, up and down his inner thighs, and he is struck by sudden desire to -

 

Loki pauses a beat in self-consciousness, even though he is perfectly alone. Heat flushes high on his cheeks, but the temptation lingers. It would feel _so good,_ Loki knows it already. It would soothe like nothing else.

 

Loki wars with himself. He has hours before Erling is due with his supper, and Thor is no doubt either occupied with state affairs or pummelling hapless sparring partners in the training yard. Loki is well and truly alone, and it’s not as though he has much else to do anyway…..

 

_Oh, just do it, you stupid priss._

 

Loki looks fleetingly towards the door, listening carefully for any possible intruders. Then, when he feels assured that he will not be interrupted, Loki arranges himself on his bed and hitches up his robe. He swirls the egg up his legs, shivering in pleasure as it draws the unwanted heat from his body. Loki grows bolder and glides it up below his navel, then along the base of his cock. Loki slides it up and down the length a few times, circling it around the head. Loki hums in pleasure, but still feels somewhat unsatisfied. Emboldened, Loki sinks it lower, over the lips of his quim, and lets out an audible moan as he does so. Loki hadn’t really explored his strange new body part - finding himself rather put off by it - but he soon succumbs to temptation and sinks the egg in, parting the folds of his flesh, and _oh,_ doesn’t that feel best of all, so slippery and wet, chilling him from his innermost, secret, heated place. The egg is far too thick to fit into his body, but that doesn’t stop Loki from imagining how amazing such a thing would feel - the fullness of it, coupled with the slick, hard cold. Loki slides the egg up and down, across his perineum and over his still tender anus. It soothes the deep ache there, and Loki relaxes, letting his mind wander.

 

Before he even realizes, Loki’s grinding his cunt on it, increasing the pressure of the egg against his too-tight vaginal opening. He gasps as the narrower tip of it breaches him, but the egg is too thick and will go no further. He wonders, perhaps, if there might come a day when he might actually be able to fit it inside him, if maybe Thor would fuck him until he’s wet and open, then force it in before Loki has a chance to close his legs.  

 

Then another thought: Would Thor mind if Loki used it during their couplings? If he’d let Loki swirl it over his cock while Thor’s tongue lapped at his quim, or sink it inside his parted slit while Thor fucked his ass?

 

“Oh,” Loki says, finding his cock stirring in arousal.

 

Loki immediately removes the egg and pulls his robes down.  He’s hard and slicking from the thought alone - some things, perhaps, cannot be helped - but he isn’t going to stoop so low as to indulge his perverted fantasies. It’s the _principle_ of the thing.

 

Annoyed at himself, Loki sets the sullied egg in its place of honour on his nightstand and flops back down on his bed, trying in vain to ignore the throbbing between his legs. At first, Loki is determined not to do anything about it, but Loki is a weak, hedonistic creature, and reaches a compromise with himself by stroking his cock to a lukewarm climax. He absolutely does _not_ think of Thor’s warm, broad shoulders, the strength in his thighs and arms, his thunderous elemental energy. He doesn’t.

 

As the haze of climax clears, Loki is brought back down to the reality of his sorry existence. He’s so maddeningly _bored_ ; he’s read every book in here cover to cover a dozen times over. He knows there are exactly 4,589 stones in his wall, not counting the floor. It’s too early to sleep, and even with the egg, it’s too hot to exercise. He’s even tired of carving obscene messages into the wall by his window.

 

The embroidery supplies catch the corner of his eye.

 

“No.” Loki says aloud.

 

He gets up and paces a few times. He soon gets overheated, and he has to grab his egg to calm himself down. It _is_ a rather thoughtful gift, Loki grants. Perhaps he ought to be more appreciative next time Thor visits him.

 

  _If_ Thor visits him.

 

Loki makes a few more rounds around his table, trying in vain to ignore the pleasant cool dampness between his legs and the mounting anxiety in his chest.

 

What time is it? Loki checks the position of the sunlight on his stone floor. Surely he should be getting his supper soon?

 

“Erling?” Loki kicks at his door, which at least distracts him somewhat. It’s satisfying release of his pent-up energy, although his toes hardly thank for it. “I’m hungry, you worthless dreg. Are you there?”

 

Loki would not be surprised if his gaoler was out there, ignoring him for his own amusement, that bastard.

 

“Erling!” Loki kicks his door again. “Erling, I’m hungry. Bring me something.”

 

Still no response. Loki kicks it again for good measure, then  collapses at his table, setting the egg in his pocket. He picks at his cuticle and curses when it starts to bleed. Loki hisses and sucks the raw wound in his mouth, then presses his finger into his robe to stop the bleeding.

 

 _Ice it,_  his mind supplies helpfully.

 

Loki laughs crazily. Of course. _Ice it._  Ice all the furniture in here. In fact, why not encrust this entire tower with ice? Then Loki can freeze and be at peace.

 

He’s so annoyed at himself that he doesn’t even notice when he gets up and moves towards the embroidery supplies. He shifts through the box’s contents, selecting samples of fabric that catch his eye, some floss that’s a rather pleasant shade of moss green.

 

Loki selects a more advanced pattern book from the lot. It cannot be _that_ hard, surely. Loki’s not going to start from a book meant for children! For Norn’s sake, he once almost conquered Midgard, he can handle a little bit of filmy stitching.

 

Loki opens the book to a random page and gets to work.

 

***

 

_Dear Thor._

 

Dear Thor? Dear Thor.

 

 

No, scratch that. Loki will not put down a greeting. Loki crumples the page and starts anew.

 

_I wish to express…._

 

 _I wish to_ extend _my gratitude for the gift._

 

_I wish to extend my gratitude for the gift. I apologize if I appeared ungrateful._

 

 _I_ did not mean _to appear ungrateful._

 

_I appreciate your concern for my well-being._

 

_I am grateful for the gift, and I appreciate your concern for my well-being. I did not intend to appear ungrateful._

 

_I like the fucking egg, are you happy?_

 

Bah! Loki scribbles over the words. Grabbing a fresh page, Loki writes just two words and sends for a messenger before he changes his mind.

 

***

 

As it turns out, Loki _hates_ needlework.

 

It was perhaps hasty of him to dismiss the skill outright.  He finds himself rushing through the patterns, growing ever more reckless and impatient. Frustrated by the results, Loki undoes all his less-than-perfect stitching and tries to start afresh. His correction only makes things worse, however, and Loki snarls, throwing the hoop against the wall.

 

What a stupid, infuriating craft!  Such fussy, finicky work - so much effort for such little rewards!

 

With a huff, Loki gets up and paces in his preferred direction. He handles his egg for awhile until his frustration ebbs, but every time he glances at his botched project his annoyance erupts anew.

 

“Curse him,” Loki seethes under his breath as he reflects on Odin’s compromise. “Curse him to the plains of Hel and back.”

 

_You know what would make you feel better -_

 

“No,” Loki shoots down that thought before it even materializes.

 

_Afraid you might like it?_

 

“Just shut up,” Loki groans, hurling himself into bed and smothering his face in the pillow.

 

***

 

Loki wakes abruptly at the sound of a knock to his door. How long had he been asleep? His stomach rumbles; it better be his lunch, and it better not be that fish soup _again._

 

To Loki’s surprise, it is not Erling’s voice on the other side of the door, but Thor’s.

 

“Loki? Are you awake?”

 

At once, Loki springs out of bed to check his hair in the mirror. His braid had come loose as he slept and now his hair flares out unevenly on one side. That’s what he gets for falling asleep on a wet head.

 

“Just a moment,” he calls. “I am undressed.”

 

Thor voice is muffled on the other side of the door, but Loki can still detect a note of amusement in it. “Are we not yet past the point of caring about such things?”

 

“I still have some modesty left to preserve, thank you,” Loki retorts, gathering his hair into a knot at the nape of his neck and fastening it with a few hairpins. The result is passable, but hardly satisfactory. Mustn’t keep his precious brother waiting; the last thing Loki needs is for Thor to just barrell in here whenever he feels like, without a word of warning.

 

Loki smooths down his robes and goes to answer the door.

 

“You’re rather early,” he says, stepping aside for Thor to enter. “Do they not keep you busy during the day?”

 

“I had a few hours between Council and tonight’s reception - you look different.”

 

“What?” Loki’s hands fly to his hair, then shoots Thor a look, _daring_ him to poke fun.

 

Thor smiles at this. “Rumpled.” He tucks a stray lock behind Loki’s ear, and Loki is caught off-guard by the _fondness_ in his face. Loki bats his hand away.

 

“I got your note,” Thor goes on, smiling softly. “I admit, I was - concerned that perhaps you took offense at the gift. Because I uh - “ He scratches his neck, unsure of how to continue. He really ought to learn to speak diplomatically if he’s going to be King of Asgard. Is he this articulate when he receives foreign dignitaries? 

 

“Oh, just out with it. By alluding to the fact that I’m a runtling frost giant. I know.”

 

“Um, aye.” Thor finishes. “I wanted to show you that I don’t care about that. That my love for you is undiminished. I hope it didn’t come off as…...insensitive, for that was not my intent.”

 

Loki laughs mirthlessly. How _noble_ of him. Thor might as well say, _I love you in spite of the fact that you descended from a race of brutish, uncivilized monsters._

 

Thor watches him expectantly, eyes bright and hopeful.

 

“I like the egg.” Loki concedes. “It has been a…. great comfort to me.”

 

Thor instantly smiles at this and cups Loki’s cheek affectionately. “Good. I am glad.”

 

Thor holds him like that for much longer than strictly necessary, until Loki beings to fear that Thor is about to have a _moment._ Loki mentally braces himself for the inevitable deluge of Thor’s _feelings_ when Thor abruptly looks beyond Loki’s shoulder.

 

“What is that? ” Thor moves past him, “Have you been doing needlework?”

 

Loki rushes to where Thor is peering over the table and elbows him in the side, blocking his view. He’d been careless and had forgotten to put it away before he’d fallen asleep. Of course, just his luck that Thor would choose _today_ to come visit him. 

 

“It’s a much slighted craft!” Loki snaps, defensive. “It’s all Odin sent when I asked for more books. He wants a sample of needlework before he’ll allow me visits to the library. It’s all very, very funny and I’m sure he had a good laugh about it.”

 

“Why would he do that?”

 

“Because he likes inventing new and creative ways to punish me, clearly. As if all _this_ weren’t enough.”

 

Thor peers over Loki’s shoulder. “Can I see?’

 

Loki frowns. “It’s not done.”

 

“Let me see.”

 

Thor snatches it from under Loki’s nose, and Loki claws at him.

 

“Give it back! Hey! You’ll damage it!”

 

“I’m just going to look.” Thor easily holds Loki back until he gives up with a frustrated huff. Loki suddenly has a flashback of when he was eight and Thor fourteen, and Thor was holding his favorite horse toy high over his head and laughing as Loki struggled to reclaim it. Loki never played with toys again after that. He glowers, his cheeks burning hot at the memory.

 

“Go ahead. Laugh. I know you want to.”

 

To Loki’s surprise, Thor doesn’t.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Thor inspects Loki’s handiwork closely. “Did you come up with the design yourself?”

 

“Its from the book,” Loki mutters. “but I added the  - oh, never mind.”

 

“The what?”

 

“The- “ Loki starts, feeling stupid. “The border, I modelled it after the _Esmer_ illuminations, and some of the plants in my botany book - “

 

 “And you just taught yourself?”  


Loki crosses his arms. “Could you please just give it back?”

 

“You have a natural skill.” Thor says, fingering Loki’s stitching almost reverentially. “It’s better than Groa’s and she’s been doing it all her life.”

 

“Yes, well,” Loki bristles at the mention of her name, “You would get good at it too if you had nothing better to do. Try not to grubby it up with your fingers.”

 

Thor hands it back, slightly amused by Loki’s annoyance.  “I should have you embroider a shirt for me.”

 

Loki shoots him a look.  “Why, in God’s name, would I do that.”

 

Thor shrugs. “Something to do?”

 

“I’d rather be bored.”

 

Loki lays his project on the table and smooths out the fabric, frowning as he notices a pucker he’ll have to fix. If Thor had damaged it Loki will knee him so hard he’ll never sire another child again.

 

Thor envelops him from behind, trapping Loki against his table.

 

“Well, if you change your mind I’d wear it. I’d be proud to.”

 

Loki rolls his eyes. “Any shirt I embellish for you will say, _Great Lumbering Idiot_ across the back, in big, bold letters.”

 

Thor laughs briskly, “That would certainly show me. Not completely an untruth.”

 

Thor nestles his nose into the crook of Loki’s neck and  presses warm kisses to the skin there, minding the sensitive areas around the torque. From the way Thor is beginning to grind on him from behind, the main purpose of this visit becomes all too clear.

 

“I was thinking of you all day,” Thor rumbles huskily into Loki’s ear, “If I made any reckless decisions at council, I’ll have you to blame.”

 

“You make stupid decisions well enough on your own, without any help from me.”

 

Thor hums into Loki’s skin, his hands roving along Loki’s hips.

 

“How you torment me, Loki.”

 

Thor leans forward, forcing Loki to bend over the edge of the table. With little ceremony, he bunches up Loki’s robe, then slaps Loki’s bare ass. Loki yelps in surprise.

 

“Hey!” Loki seethes, rearing up. Thor chuckles, easily keeping him flattened with a palm to his back.

 

“That is for the sharp lash of your tongue,” Thor says playfully, “And if you insist on misbehaving, I will not hesitate to give you another.”

 

“How dare you. How dare you! I ought to - ow!”

 

The sting on his arse is only partially soothed as Thor rubs at the sensitized flesh.

 

Loki manages a sneer despite his compromising position, but holds his tongue lest Thor make any more good on his threat. Thor clicks his tongue at Loki’s acquiescence. 

 

“That’s it? No more biting words? It is not like you to yield so easily.” 

 

“Just get on with it, Thor.” Loki grumbles.

 

Thor smacks him a third time, but much more gently. Loki can practically _hear_ him grin.

 

“If only I’d known this was all it took to subdue you. I would have saved myself years of suffering.”

 

Thor kneads at Loki’s arse, playfulness quickly devolving to outright lust. Without ceremony, he reaches between Loki’s parted legs and begins to rub at the folds of flesh there.

 

Loki groans as his body begins to warm under Thor’s touch. Here he is, bunched up and rumpled and bent over like a common strumpet, and he’s fucking rutting himself back on Thor’s fingers. He is no longer surprised at his body’s response, but he curses himself for it nonetheless.

 

Thor seems pleased and redoubles his efforts, sliding thick fingers into Loki’s quim, thrusting them in and out before pulling out to thumb over his arsehole.

 

Loki jerks.

 

“Wait.”

 

Thor ceases his ministrations. “What?”

 

“Not that way, Thor.” Loki repeats firmly, and hopes Thor understands what he means without him having to elaborate further.  Where once he delighted in Thor’s depravity, Loki is tired. He can’t. Just this once, he doesn’t want it to hurt. He doesn't want to have to justify the twisted pleasure he gets from engaging in such acts; he doesn’t want to come apart. His voice cracks, “Please.”

 

Thor pauses a beat.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I’m asking you not to.”

 

“I’m hot, Loki.” Thor complains, grinding his erection against Loki’s hip. “I need it.”

 

Loki bucks and manages to twist around in Thor’s grasp so that they are face to face. Still pinned between the table’s edge and Thor’s broad chest, he has no room to retreat.

 

“Than fuck me as you do your _maids_. I know you must want to. Hmmm? Deflower me proper?”

 

Thor smirks, his eyes dark with lust. “You still think yourself a virgin?”

 

“In the only way that matters!”  Loki shouts. “The only way that would count if I were a _woman._ Or does it thrill you to keep me so, even as you delight in baser pleasures of the flesh?”

 

Thor’s mirth slowly dissipates into a  frown. “You never had a problem before.”

 

“Yes, well, I do now. I’m sore. You were too rough last time”

 

“As I recall, you seemed to like it well enough.”

 

“You just like humiliating me,” Loki accuses, pushing Thor hard on his chest. Thor steps back, more out of surprise than at Loki’s display of strength. “You like subjecting me to degrading acts. It gets you off when I cry.”

 

“That’s not true!” Thor shouts back hastily, but the red flush of his face is damning. “I cannot risk impregnating you, that’s all.”

 

Loki laughs to mask the sudden tightness in his throat.

 

 “If that is what you tell yourself.”

 

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Thor says carefully, “but I swear it is the truth. It would not be….opportune. For either of us.”

 

“Ah. So I am to thank you for what you do to me.”

 

Thor’s lips set in a firm line. “No. No, I suppose not.”

 

Thor looks away, guilt and petulance writ plain across his face like a chastised boy. He doesn't like to be denied; he likes less being made to feel like a villain.  Being _noble_ is so bound up in his self-concept that he cannot abide any evidence to the contrary. Loki sighs and runs a hand through his upswept hair, where stray locks have fallen out of his bun during their tussle. He can’t afford to leave Thor wanting. He needs to be _sweet._

 

“Look,” Loki says, softening his voice, “I’m not refusing you - _that_ \- forever. You know I want nothing more than to bring you pleasure. I just…….wish to give myself to you in _this_ way. This time.  If preventing conception is what concerns you, there are herbs I can take. They are rare, but the palace alchemists should have some. I could make a tonic.”

 

Thor raises his eyebrows skeptically. One would think Loki would be used to not being believed by now.

 

“Ask them, I swear I speak the truth.  I’d even take it under your supervision, if that would make you feel better.”

 

“You….” Thor says slowly, “That is truly your wish?”

 

“Of course,” Loki smiles and cants his head seductively, “You feel how wet I get for you. I bet you’ve thought about it.” He closes the distance between them and lowers his voice to a hot whisper. “I think about it too.”

 

“Loki,” Thor groans, tugging at Loki’s clothes. “You know I desire every part of you. I would bed you in every way imaginable, and still my lust for you would not cool. But I cannot have you in that manner without some assurance that you will not conceive. I will get you the herbs you ask, but come _on._ I’m so hot, Loki.”

 

He paws at Loki’s ass and hips, but Loki  presses firmly on his chest.

 

“No! Not like that.”

 

“Then like what?”  Thor pouts, although from the look in his face, it’s clear what he expects.

 

“Sit down,” Loki says with a sigh, motioning to his armchair. Thor goes without a fuss, his bad mood dissipating with the promise of having his prick handled. Although Thor’s temper is mercurial and easily enflamed, he is just as easily brought to heel. In fact, Loki is confident he could solve any of Thor’s little snits with a combination of good food, drink, and a climax or two.

 

Thor parts his thighs in anticipation, and Loki smoothly kneels between them, as haughtily as he is able. From this angle, Thor looks even more the enthroned god. Loki supposes he ought to get used to the view.

 

Loki reaches for the laces on Thor’s pants and frees Thor’s cock, then takes it in hand and pumps it a few times. Hard, thick, and flushed angry-red, it is so much more intimidating up close.

 

Thor grins lazily. “You don’t really know what you’re doing, do you?”  


“It can’t be that hard, when all your whores do it,” Loki snaps.

 

“Mind your teeth.”

 

“I’m not stupid, Thor.” Loki mutters, then takes the plunge, sinking his mouth down over the head. The girth of it forces his mouth wide - _obscene_ \- and Loki knows already there is no chance he’ll be able to fit the entire thing inside without dislocating his jaw. He keeps his hand rooted at the base, both to minimize the amount he’ll have to take in his mouth and to keep Thor somewhat under control.

 

He starts slowly, swirling his tongue along the head, sucking gently, doing the things he thinks he’d like if he were in Thor’s position. It helps to keep his eyes clamped shut. That way, he can focus single-mindedly on his task without the added embarrassment of knowing for certain that Thor is watching. He feels Thor’s hand on the back of his head, first resting, then gently guiding Loki into a rhythm. It’s not so bad, Loki thinks, although he isn’t taking Thor very deep, and he fears he won’t be able to bring him to climax without intensifying his efforts. His jaw already aches with the strain, but Loki ignores it and picks up the pace somewhat. Thor rewards him with a low, rumbling groan.

 

“Good, Loki,” Thor murmurs, practically purring like some great cat.

 

Loki tries going a bit deeper now, but stops short of having Thor’s cock breach his throat. His gag reflex flares in warning; there is no way he can take any more without vomiting. Thor’s grip on his hair is tightening: an ever-present threat. Loki knows that as Thor becomes more aroused, the more uncontrollable he becomes  - the more _dangerous._ Best to try and get Thor off as quickly as possible before he unwittingly causes Loki any harm. 

 

Sure enough, Thor guides Loki down further than before, until his cockhead is rubbing at the back of Loki’s throat. Loki’s stomach contracts and he panics, trying in vain to pull back, only to have Thor’s hand keep him in place. It’s only when Loki begins to thrash that Thor finally relents. Loki rears back, coughing. 

 

“Could you please give me some warning before you do that?” Loki sputters angrily as his stomach heaves. He was very, very close to throwing up.

 

“Sorry,” Thor rasps, not looking sorry at all. “Do you….want to stop?”

 

“I can do it!” Loki says, wiping at his wet face. “I just need a moment.”

 

Thor does not argue the point, but he twitches, probably desperate for his release.

 

Having caught his breath somewhat, Loki tries again, taking Thor harder and deeper than before. He needs Thor to _come._ Loki is in no way looking forward to having Thor spill in his mouth, but right now, it is still preferable to being fucked. Loki’s rhythm falters, his jaw aches, and still he persists, sucking like he’s starved for it. Loki doesn’t even need Thor’s hand to force him down; Loki chokes himself by his own volition, if that’s what it would take. If that’s what would make this end…….

 

Thor pulls him back, abruptly and Loki can’t help but look up to search his face for any evidence of displeasure. Thor’s face is still dark with arousal, but there is concern there now too. Loki suddenly feels entirely foolish: blotchy-faced, dishevelled, panting raggedly, with spit and precome leaking down his chin. What a sight he must make.

 

“So stubborn, Loki.” Thor says, thumbing away a tear Loki hadn’t realized he’d let escape. Without further ado, Thor picks Loki up underneath his armpits and deposits him on his lap. Thor wraps Loki’s hand around his spit-slick, leaking cock,  and uses his own hand to guide Loki into a rhythm.

 

 “Like this,” he says, nuzzling Loki’s neck.

 

To say that this is a surprise would be a profound understatement, but for once in his life, it is not an unwelcome one. Even if he could muster the will, Loki is in no position to refuse this act of pity. Gratefully, Loki strokes Thor at the pace he’d set, and relishes as Thor hums in pleasure. 

 

“Good?” he whispers, still croaky.

 

“Yes,” Thor says, “Keep going.”

 

Thor is truly magnificent in the throes; Loki had not had much chance to study him during their night-time trysts, but here, in daylight, up close and face to face, Loki  takes a moment to truly appreciate him - the way his brow glistens with sweat, the pink flush of his cheeks and lips, the golden-velvet sheen of his beard. Thor pulls Loki down for a kiss, his lips warm and welcoming against Loki’s, and Loki parts his mouth obligingly to the return it. Thor bucks into Loki’s hand helplessly and his thighs flex beneath Loki’s ass.. In a strange reversal of fortune, Loki feels almost _powerful_ , holding his brother captive with the promise of imminent orgasm. In this moment, Thor is well and truly _his._

 

“Come on Thor,” Loki says, emboldened. “Come for me.”

 

Thor groans, clutching Loki’s robe desperately, and finally spills hot in Loki’s hand. Loki strokes him through it and watches him as if transfixed. The sight is less arousing than it is…..well…..simply _beautiful._

 

Thor pants and lays back in the chair limply, eyes hooded and mouth parted. He takes a few moments to recuperate, then turns towards Loki, grinning loopily.

 

“That was nice,” he says at length.

 

Loki rolls his eyes. His spunk is everywhere, all over Loki’s hand and their clothes. Blegh. Loki will have to figure out a way to get out the stains lest the laundry maids begin to talk. He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and begins to mop up the cool, sticky release. There is _so much of it._ Loki can’t imagine having to swallow it all.

 

“Sorry about that,” Thor offers.

 

“That you come like a horse?”

 

Thor squeezes him close, affectionate in his post-coital glow. He licks his lips unconsciously. 

 

“Do you want me to return the favor?”

 

Loki snorts, even has his cunt twitches in interest. “I’m not in the mood, thank you.”

 

“I could get you in the mood.”

 

“I said I’m not - Hey! Put me down!”

 

Thor is laughing as he hauls Loki over his shoulder and heaves him on the bed. Loki sputters at the mistreatment, but Thor manages to wrestle him down, grinning madly all the while.

 

Loki means to resist, he does. He ought to kick and flail and struggle until Thor gives up and backs off. 

 

…...but all protests die on his lips as soon as Thor’s head descends between his thighs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you think loki is crazysauce now just wait until he gets knocked up oh ho ho
> 
> Ást - I guess means sweetheart/one who is loved in old norse? Idk. it seemed like a good idea at the time.
> 
> hit me up! teresa-dances-in-sequins.tumblr.com :)


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